


my thoughts of you never end

by melodypond_thewomanwhomarriedme



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Bridgerton AU, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hate at First Sight, Human AU, Regency Romance, Romance, british aristocracy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodypond_thewomanwhomarriedme/pseuds/melodypond_thewomanwhomarriedme
Summary: It is Lady Melody's last year participating in London high society's social season as a prospective bride. Her parents are desperate for her to marry to ensure a secure future for herself - but unbeknownst to them, Melody has no intention to wed. However, when the long-elusive Duke of Gallifrey arrives in town, Melody finds that her plans will change drastically.
Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, Twelfth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 34
Kudos: 49





	1. things to love

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!!! so this is the fic i've been largely working on for the past month or so since i watched bridgerton on christmas. i hope ya'll like it :) there might be some historical inaccuracies, im not very well versed in the customs and such and i might have gotten a few things wrong hehe. 
> 
> special thanks to my beta, tinkerbellxoxo
> 
> Chapter and Story titles are quotes from the TV show, Bridgerton.

_ “You find things to love, my dear. Small things... and eventually they add up to be enough.” _

_ Portia Featherington, Bridgerton.  _

Lady Melody Williams took in a sharp breath as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The start of London high society’s social season always made her slightly jittery. She found the parties and endless mingling quite unnecessary and even more stifling. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t  _ want  _ to marry anybody. Granted, the thought of marrying any of the men who had proposed to her in the last five years caused bile to rise in the back of her throat. But that didn’t mean that she  _ never  _ wanted to marry. 

She just couldn’t bring herself to settle down for anything less than unconditional love. Her best friend, Donna, would scoff at her thinking. She would tease her for being a hopeless romantic. But Melody couldn’t help it, for she admitted the fact - she was a hopeless romantic, and nothing short of a match made in heaven would satisfy her. 

And so she found herself, in her seventh year in the marriage market, having turned down more proposals than any debutante could ever hope to receive. This was to be her last year participating in the social season - and she thanked the heavens above for that. Seven years was quite enough for her. 

After this, she would be considered too old for marriage, and condemned to what women in high society feared the most - a life as an aging, unattractive spinster. 

Not that Melody was exactly  _ unattractive _ , per se. No, with her gleaming blue-green eyes and her mane of beautiful golden curls; her ample chest and buxom figure, she found that she was quite attractive to the opposite sex. Indeed, she knew exactly how to bewitch men with her charms and the melodious tune of her silky, velvety voice. 

Melody was naturally in no shortage of eligible male suitors interested in taking her hand in marriage - it was she who was uninterested in them. This was a source of frustration for both her parents, who explained to her time and time again that she was their only hope of securing a comfortable future for herself. A woman would not be allowed to inherit the family fortune. Once her father died, Melody would no doubt be forced out by whomever occupied Leadworth Manor next, for her father did not have any other living male relative. 

Melody always joked indifferently that she would work at a brothel if she must, which exasperated her mother and scandalised her father. But now, the reality of everything seemed more tangible in the face of her last year participating. Her parents were deeply worried for her, she knew, but she was a clever woman with many skills and tricks up her sleeve. Once her parents passed (on the same day, for her mother had made her father swear that they would; she refused to outlive him and refused to let him outlive her), she would run away in search of the freedom that London high society couldn’t seem to afford her. She would travel and explore the world - work in farms and swim in beaches and make her own way in life. Of that she was entirely sure - nothing, not even her immense love for her parents, would make her change her mind. 

For she did love her parents very much. Her upbringing had been blissful and happy, which was more than she could ask for when she looked at how her friends’ families differed from hers. While her mother taught her skills that all ladies were expected to learn, like the pianoforte and sewing, her father allowed her books to read and often brought her along to his ventures in the country. The result of their parenthood was a well-read, open-minded daughter that men were instantly attracted to. 

However, Melody soon found that the only reason why she seemed to capture the male attention so absolutely was because she was, in short, wild and beautiful. In her, they found someone who needed to be tamed; a woman in dire need of a man’s influence; a damsel that needed to be rescued and taught the proper ways, lest she fall by the wayside. Melody was repulsed by the idea. She was not a woman who simply complied to the wills of men. Many of them seemed mistaken in their assessment of her. She was not in need of their  _ masculine _ touch - she was simply content to be as she was. And if any man tried to tell her otherwise, she simply pointed them towards the door at the first opportunity. 

As she stood in front of the mirror in her corset, admiring her figure, she sighed at the thought of having to entertain and talk to numerous self-absorbed men. If only there were a man who was kind, funny and compassionate; a man whom she could laugh and share inside jokes with about the various appalling behaviours of the ton. A man who, above all, was content to allow Melody be her modern self - and loved her not despite, but because of it. 

But she knew that it would be a miracle if she ever managed to find a man such as that. Still, it didn’t stop her from wanting him. She wanted freedom more than anything, and a marriage to a man in London high society was the very opposite of that. 

There was a soft knock on the door. 

“Are you decent, Miss?” asked the soft tones of her maid, Evangelista. 

“Yes, come in,” Melody replied, and watched as her maid entered the room carrying an exquisite dress made of satin, in the most striking green she’d ever seen. “Did mother order that from the dressmaker’s?”

“Yes, Miss,” Evangelista said, as she helped Melody into the dress. Before fixing the bow at her back, she sat Melody down in front of her vanity and looked at her reflection. “How would you like your hair today, Miss?” 

Melody softened as she smiled at Evangelista. She knew that the other maids spoke ill of her behind her back. To them, she was rather simple and stupid, and they scoffed at Melody insisting that she become a lady’s maid. But Melody knew that the girl possessed a kind heart and unlike the others, she would never dream of speaking of the Williams’ private affairs to her other friends. That trait alone was enough for Melody to decide that she was quite fond of her maid. Her skills at braiding hair just awarded her even more points in Melody’s book. 

“Half-up braids, please.” Melody said politely. 

“Of course, Miss.” Evangelista answered, picking up a comb and setting to work.

It took fifteen minutes to braid her hair in the way she wanted. They remained in companionable silence throughout, Evangelista in concentration and Melody in preparation. 

For Melody had no doubt that, the moment she stepped into the foyer, all chances of quiet would be but a mere fantasy. Her mother would be fussing unnecessarily over her and her father would try to caution her about her manners and the importance of making a good impression on the other guests. 

_ No, _ Melody thought to herself, struggling not to hiss in pain as Evangelista tugged at her hair just a trifle too hard,  _ I would much prefer to enjoy my peace and quiet for as long as I possibly can.  _

As she predicted, her mother and father talked over one another as she descended the stairs into the foyer. She allowed them five minutes of fussing before she gently took both their arms and walked them towards the front door, where the carriage was prepared and ready to go. 

“Remember, Melody.” her mother said anxiously to her as they rocked back and forth in the carriage. “Do try to smile at them. Be polite, and  _ please _ don’t insult their families. Try to be alluring, but not  _ too _ much so. Don’t be spiteful and for God’s sake, control that awful hot temper of yours. And -”

“For heaven’s sake, Amelia,” her father interrupted, shaking his head disapprovingly at his wife. “Stop fussing over her. Melody knows what to do.”

“I can’t help if I’m nervous, Rory.” said Amelia, and she indeed looked that way already. Her skin was flushed and her breathing heavy; the elegant red curls resting against her neck was beginning to lose its effect, flattening slightly. She looked at Melody and reached out for her hand. “Oh, but you look simply beautiful, dearest. I'm sure that spiteful old cow, Lady Smith will find something about you to criticise, but you mustn't let her upset you, understand?”

Melody nodded, a faint smile appearing on her lips as she did so. Dowager Countess Missy Smith was holding the first ball of the social season at Heaven’s Gate, the beautiful palace that had once been her husband’s. She was an old, difficult woman with a cunning wit and a sharp tongue that wasn’t afraid to lash out at anyone, regardless of title or status. Amelia had been the unfortunate target of it when she was one of the debutantes in the marriage mart, and now that Melody was a participant, Lady Smith was only too happy to set her sights on Melody instead. 

Indeed, as Melody failed year after year to find a man suitable enough for marriage, her insults only seemed to cut deeper, much to Amelia’s eternal dismay. In her fifth year, Lady Smith had loudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen that Melody would never marry and was destined to live an unhappy spinster for the rest of her life. Amelia had never quite forgiven her for that remark. 

Melody, however, felt that Lady Smith was almost endearing. In her opinion, her Ladyship never talked about anyone she didn’t like. She sensed that in her own crude way, Dowager Countess Missy Smith was staunchly in her corner, always making her the subject of her conversations and therefore keeping men interested in Melody. 

She said nothing else as Rory cast Amelia another disapproving look over her poor choice of words. He knew better than to argue with his wife, however. It was far better that she let the vulgarities and name-calling out in private, or he would spend the night nervously treading in the opposite direction of Lady Smith and ensuring they never crossed paths. This he knew from experience. 

They reached Heaven’s Gate almost twenty minutes later, and Melody stepped gratefully out of the carriage to breathe in the fresh air of dusk. She knew she would have to endure her parents’ company for the first half an hour before she could set off to find Donna. Even then, she wasn’t sure that Donna would be available. 

Donna had made her social debut three years prior and was already determined to marry anyone sane at this point. Donna was mature, beautiful and exceedingly funny. However, she craved for a more fulfilling lids and believed wholeheartedly that she would find that in marriage. 

Melody stood on tiptoe to look past the crowds of people in the ball, looking for the striking shade of auburn hair that Donna had been so unfairly blessed with. She soon caught sight of her friend being chaperoned by her mother, Baroness Sylvia Noble. She disliked Lady Noble very much - she was always finding something about Donna to criticise, pointing out every imperfection almost cruelly and causing an utter mess of her daughter’s self-confidence. 

Melody excused herself from her parents, heading to the table of light snacks at the back of the ballroom. She took a glass of champagne from a server’s tray and looked down at the plethora of food laid out in front of her, eyeing them curiously. As she pondered on whether it would be wise to tuck away a few of the treats underneath her gown, a voice cleared his throat behind her and tapped her shoulder.

She swiveled around to find Baron Ramone Bingsley, a bachelor who spent the past four years painstakingly courting Melody to no avail. He’d proposed on quite a number of different occasions but Melody always answered with a firm, resounding  _ no _ . 

She was smitten at first - he was, after all, one of the most good-looking bachelors the ton ever saw - but after spending some time alone with him, Melody found that he was simply dull and uninteresting. He could not carry any worthy conversation and was more content to talk about his elderly mother, who was recovering quite well from her bout of pneumonia, thank you so much for asking.

And so, Melody was less than enthusiastic to find herself face to face with Ramone once again. Still, she quickly pasted a smile on her lips and curtsied as he bowed. 

“Hello, Ramone,” she greeted cordially. “I wasn’t aware that you’d be attending tonight’s events.”

_ Or I would’ve kept a clear lookout, _ she added to herself, as Ramone beamed at her. 

“I saw Viscount and Viscountess Williams together by the hallway and thought you must be nearby,” he explained, as Melody nodded politely. “I wasn’t sure if I should attend tonight at all - Mother’s been dreadfully sick again. The flu and all,” he waved his hands and gestured accordingly as she nodded in what she hoped was a suitably sympathetic manner. “But I just couldn’t pass up the chance of seeing you again, Melody.”

Melody, who couldn’t honestly bring herself to return the sentiment, nodded along in an interested manner as she thought quickly about what to say in reply. Ramone smiled even wider at her, his eyes taking her in warmly and respectfully. His eternally respectful manner had been what attracted Melody most when they first met. 

Even so, Melody couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the fondness in his eyes. It was appreciated - she was flattered, even - but it was simply not reciprocated, and she felt it difficult to let the man down easy. 

So she did the only thing she could think of - she drained her glass of drink at a remarkable speed and indicated with a mouthful of alcohol that she was off to find another glass, hurrying away in a whirl of green skirts before he even had the chance to utter her name. 

But it seemed that she was destined for misfortune tonight. As she made haste, firm fingers closed around her wrist and tugged roughly. She yelped in a thoroughly undignified manner and caught her balance at the last moment, finding herself staring suddenly at a man. A tall, fair man with dark hair that was peppered with grey. He had black, beady eyes and a strong nose, but what most women fell for was his strong, masculine frame. 

Melody, however, was not fooled by his body. If there was ever a man she would like to feed to the crocodiles, it would be he. Rumours of his horrid behaviour towards his maids had spread all over the countryside and he certainly lived up to his reputation, thought Melody, as he bared his teeth in a charismatic smile. 

She looked at her wrist, then at the woman standing beside the Earl - a guilty looking Donna Noble smiled at her. Before she could even open her mouth to ask her  _ what in the world she thought she was doing _ , Donna started introducing her to the man. 

“Earl Bearington, this is the daughter of Viscount and Viscountess Williams, Melody,” said Donna, ignoring Melody’s deathly glare. “Melody, this is Earl Frederick Bearington.”

“My lady,” he bowed. “I shall be delighted to meet your acquaintance.” 

Her eyes met his admittedly charming smile as she curtsied half-heartedly. “Charmed, my Lord.”

“Shall we dance?” he asked, extending an arm towards her. 

Her eyes shifted from side to side, frantically searching for an escape route. Donna had made a speedy retreat after introducing them and was nowhere to be seen. Melody made a mental note to take even more of Donna’s hair pins the next time they were in her bedroom.

Finding no reason to decline, she forced a polite smile upon the man opposite her.

“I shall be delighted.” she lied. 

As he led her to the middle of the room, she could not help but feel a certain wave of uneasiness creep over her. Earl Bearington was notorious for being the most reproachable of rakes - stories of him seducing women and violating them had circulated well amongst the help. He ensured the women’s social ruin with their scandals and brought shame upon their families. Melody just couldn’t allow that to happen to her. 

Already pleased with the faint disgust she felt towards the man, she started dancing with him, feeling comfortable that she wouldn’t be seduced by whatever charms he seemed to possess. 

“I must say, Miss Williams,” he began, his eyes attempting a connection which failed, as Melody was determined not to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds. “You have the most exquisite face of any lady here. Your hair is simply magnificent - quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. You must be the envy of every young woman here.”

Having heard these compliments before, Melody merely smiled as she continued to dance. It would take a lot more than flattery to get her to marry  _ this _ man. 

He paused, as if waiting for a reply - perhaps a return of compliments or a shy note of gratitude - but whatever he was expecting, he did not receive it. The absence of a response, Melody was glad to note, made his charming smile falter a little. 

He cleared his throat a little as their palms touched and they revolved around one another. 

“Please permit me to mention that I saw you talking to a friend of mine, Baron Ramone Bingsley,” he continued, “Would I be slighting my friend by asking you to dance?” 

“What are these events for, if not to dance with whomever I fancy?” asked Melody. She could not ignore his question, for he knew she heard him. Melody was a modern woman, but in no way was she rude. “Ramone and I are friends.” she hesitated, before continuing. “We know each other suitably well, given that he’s proposed to me more than thrice.”

Earl Bearington’s eyes widened in a rather satisfactory manner. Melody had taken care to emphasise the number of times Ramone proposed - she wanted the Earl to know that she was not easily impressed, unlike the women he was no doubt used to. 

“Poor old chap,” he said, his sympathy for Ramone not quite convincing. “I suppose I should be thankful that you refused him. Your lovely smile is simply beguiling, Lady Melody, and I shall be deeply distraught if I were not permitted to look at it every day.”

Feeling incredibly in need of a drink, Melody stared at a spot behind the Earl’s shoulder for the rest of the dance. As the song ended, Melody curtsied and the Earl bowed. 

“Thank you for the lovely dance, my Lord.” she said hurriedly. “But I believe my father is summoning me. I shall be charmed if we meet again.”

She curtsied again and walked as quickly as she could without attracting attention, ignoring his cry of “Uh - Miss Williams!”

She turned back momentarily to ensure that he wasn’t following only to collide harshly with someone, sending them both tumbling backwards a few steps. She is able to steady herself by grasping hard upon the arm of the person she bumped. 

“Oh, God, I’m terribly sorry,” she apologised hastily, fixing herself as she blushed red. Realising that she had bumped into a man, she winced and curtsied, unable to look him in the eye. “It was quite an accident. May I know your name?”

“You are incredibly lucky that I’ve finished my drink or you would undoubtedly be covered in it, as clumsy as you are,” a dry, annoyed voice answered her. There was no note of understanding or forgiveness in his voice, merely irritation. “And am I honestly to believe that you do not know who I am?”

Melody had never felt guilt and mortification evaporate so quickly from within her. Her head shot up and took in the man in front of her. He was slightly older, but only by a few years. He had thick brown hair and the most startling blue eyes she’d ever seen. He was rather thin and tall, but he carried himself in a more dignified manner than most men with his lanky frame. 

“It was an accident,” she emphasised. “I assure you, my Lord, I do not routinely knock into people for sport.”

His scowl deepened. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he answered coldly. “I should think that you would be more apologetic, given that you’ve just accosted me quite unreasonably.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she couldn’t help rolling her eyes slightly. This expression seemed to shock him a little - she would be rather surprised at her own brazenness if she didn’t find him so unnecessarily brutish. 

“Your impertinence is quite uncalled for,” she said curtly, and finally registering the shock in his features, rightly guessed that no lady in the ton had ever talked to him plainly before. “I have sincerely apologised for my mistake and am unwilling to repeat it.” 

“My impertinence is quite necessary for an attitude such as yours,” he said, lips thinning into a line. “You are thoroughly unpleasant.”

Melody raised her eyebrows at him. “It must be surprising for you to have a woman speak her mind in your presence for once. But I assure you, my Lord, my courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall gladly rid myself of your presence.”

She curtsied half-heartedly and was about to leave when she heard her father’s voice behind her. 

“John Smith, as I live and breathe!” Rory Williams exclaimed, and before Melody understood what was going on, her father and the rude man were smiling, shaking hands and patting each other’s backs. 

“Viscount Williams!” John greeted in his crisp, clear voice. His demeanour had changed entirely; he was friendly and smiling, looking genuinely happy to see Rory. The stark contrast to which he’d been talking to Melody shocked her slightly. “It’s been an age, sir.” 

“Please, please, Rory now,” her father insisted as Melody watched faintly. “A proper Duke now, aren’t you? We’re terribly sorry about your father, John. We only wished we could have been able to be at his funeral to see him off.”

“My father was always fond of the Williams. He considered you a dear friend, sir.” John said. “But he would have understood that the roads were much too treacherous that time of the year.” 

“What a welcomed surprise,” Rory said happily, before turning back and pushing Melody in front of him, as if presenting her to the Duke. “Have you met my girl here, Melody? Oh, but I’m sure you have, I saw you chatting from the corner there.”

Melody and the Duke looked at each other for a few moments, neither knowing what to say. From their expressions, it was clear that their encounter had not been positive. 

“We’ve... been acquainted.” Melody acknowledged at last. 

“Quite accidentally.” the Duke added. 

They glared at each other. 

“Well,” Rory said, clearing his throat and clearly noticing the tension between them, “You must come to Leadworth, John. I shall have the maids prepare those biscuits you loved when you used to visit us.” 

Melody, on the verge of throwing a proper temper tantrum, merely glared more viciously at John as he accepted Rory’s invitation. Unable to stand the scene any longer, she addressed her father directly. 

“I think I’ll go and find Donna,” she said quietly, as Rory nodded his permission. She curtsied, taking care to give John a rather exaggerated show as she did. “Good day, sir.”

And without waiting for a reply, she turned her back on John Smith, Duke of Gallifrey. 

Having danced with a total of eight gentlemen for the remainder of the night, Melody felt quite sullen and defeated. Sure, she hadn’t exactly  _ expected _ to make a connection, but it would’ve been nice all the same. And it certainly didn’t help that she kept replaying the encounter she’d had with John Smith over and over again in her mind. 

She thought scathingly of the man with the rudest manners one could encounter. Hadn’t she apologised, quite sincerely might she add? And he responded by completely ignoring her apologies and calling her clumsy. 

Clumsy?  _ Her? _ Absolutely not. 

Melody was certainly not a bumbling, clumsy idiot and she loathed being treated like one. She was completely taken aback by the amount of contempt he’d shown right from the start. 

And of course, with her rotten luck, that very man just happened to be the son of her father’s dear friend. A son that had been to Leadworth Manor quite a number of times before he moved back to the countryside with his father. Melody couldn’t quite remember him visiting, but she supposed that she wasn’t old enough to remember details like that. 

She groaned as she spotted her father giving John their address, telling him to send a missive ahead of his arrival. 

“I saw you talking to the Duke of Gallifrey,” her mother said to her, eyes twinkling as they rode the carriage back home. “You do have extravagant tastes, don’t you? Just like your mother.”

Rory looked affronted. 

“Please,” Melody scoffed. “More like the Duke of Arseholes. Sorry, Mother, I’ve not got my eye on him any more than he’s got his eye on me.”

“John is only here for a short while.” Rory informs her, looking disapproving of Melody’s language. “He’s here to send the Dowager Count her belongings that her brother left her. I believe he said he’s only here for three weeks.”

“Oh, but we must have him over for tea!” said Amelia excitedly. 

“Already sorted, dear.” Rory smiled at his wife before turning to Melody. “John is quite a nice, respectable chap, Melody. I’m sure that if you were to marry him, your mother and I needn’t worry about your future.”

Melody groaned internally. That damned Duke. 

*

Two arrangements of extravagant flowers appeared at breakfast. Melody knew by sight that the bouquet of orchids, baby’s breath and tulips were from Ramone. He sent the same bouquet every year - and every year, her answer remained the same. 

The other bouquet, however, was a mystery. The flowers were of the purest white, mixed with red and bright yellow. Melody didn’t quite know how she felt about the strange, clashing arrangement. 

“From Earl Frederick Bearington, Miss,” said Evangelista, her smile broad.

“Lovely.” Melody said insincerely. 

If these two were her only options for husbands, she would have to grasp the reality of living her life as a troublesome spinster. The flowers were a sign, of course, that the men would come calling in the afternoon. 

Her parents would no doubt be annoyed at Ramone - behind his back, of course. They weren’t so uncivilised as to show their disdain for the man to his office - but they have been quite exasperated with his stubborn infatuation with Melody. Once she explained to them that she simply could not bring herself to even imagine marrying the man, her parents became quite understanding of her feelings. 

As for Earl Bearington, she was sure her mother and father would disagree with each other at first. Her father would say that he was well travelled, clever, humorous and a perfectly respectable sort of man that would suit her well. Her mother, however, would no doubt be aware of the gossip amongst the help. She would be aware of all the horrible things Melody heard, and would be quite against her daughter marrying such a man. 

However, her father’s keenness on Earl Bearington would soon fade. Melody was certain that her mother would be able to convince her father to come around to her point of view, as she was wont to do. 

The two gentlemen came and went, though neither offered a proposal to Melody, she was relieved to hear. Ramone was his usual self, chatting gayly to half attentive hosts about his mother’s illness. Melody was beside herself with boredom but Ramone remained oblivious to her feelings. 

Earl Bearington had come armed with a slightly different approach to the one he tried on Melody the day before. He turned his charismatic charm upon her parents instead, showering compliments on both of them - and the house, for good measure. 

She feared that her parents would be fooled by his charms but she quickly realised that she needn’t have worried - she should have known that her parents possessed too much sense to be taken in by something as volatile and uncertain as charm. 

Though she knew that her parents wanted her wed more than anything, she also knew that they would never force her to do anything, especially if it concerned something as important as marriage. Melody was quite aware of how blessed she was to be born to the parents she had and was so wholly grateful that she would always have their support and love behind her. 

Still, parents would be parents. 

Feeling incredibly unsatisfied with the suitors that had called, her parents both urged her to be friendlier and more affable. She did not want to disappoint her parents any further and promised that she would try to talk to more men, telling herself that it may afford her the advantage of avoiding both Ramone and Earl Bearington. 

Melody closed her eyes in the carriage in preparation for a particularly social evening. She checked her updo and the gathering of curls at the base of her neck, breathing out slowly. She didn’t exactly know why she felt so nervous, but her heart was thumping quite loudly under her corset. Perhaps the reality of spinsterhood was finally beginning to settle in - and she found that she didn’t find it quite as inviting as she thought she would. 

Steeling herself, she pushed the wild panic and anxiety she felt down deep into the recesses of her mind and implored her brain to focus on the night’s ball, located in a lovely mansion by the river. The grounds boasted beautifully trimmed hedges that went out as far as the eye could see - it created the effect of a never ending maze. 

Melody, who always felt more comfortable outside than in, looked longingly as they strolled past a beautiful archway with overgrown vines, leaves and flowers intertwined with the sturdy wood. The matching bench underneath looked to her more inviting than the warmth and bustle of the mansion ahead of her. 

Her arms, that were looped over the arms of both her parents standing on either side of her, started quivering. She felt much more suffocated than she ever thought possible. Still, she forced herself to keep moving. She wouldn’t let her parents down tonight, not after the promise she just made to them that day. 

“Are you all right, dear?” her father asked quietly as they followed the path amongst the ton. “You look quite pale.” 

Melody turned to look at her father and found his concerned eyes looking over her. Swallowing back the uneasy feeling that was rising quickly inside her, she managed a reassuring smile and hurried to alay his worries. 

“I’m fine, Father,” she answered. “I’ll feel quite better once I’ve had a bit of a drink.”

As they entered the main room of the party, Melody immediately caught sight of the Duke of Gallifrey. He was chatting to his aunt, the Dowager Countess. Having caught sight of Melody entering, Missy Smith took her nephew’s hand and led him to where they were standing as a few couples started gathering in the middle of the room, waiting to dance. 

Melody composed herself and pasted the most charming smile she could muster on her face as she watched them approach. She stubbornly kept her eyes on Dowager Countess Missy Smith instead, determinedly avoiding looking at the man next to her. Even so, she could feel his piercing gaze on her.

“Rory and Amelia Williams!” she greeted with a smile, and her parents did the same, though with a tad of uneasiness in their frames. “And ah, Lady Melody Williams. Your hair looks  _ much _ better today, dear. I don’t know why you insist on having it half-down like that, it accentuates your unfortunately puffy cheeks.”

Melody hid a smile as she curtsied. “Thank you, Countess Smith.”

Amelia looked quite furious already, her flaming red hair making the anger and exasperation on her face quite obvious. 

“I don’t believe I had the chance of introducing my nephew to you,” the Dowager Countess continued, quite oblivious to the expression on Amelia’s face - or otherwise simply unbothered by it. She indicated the Duke beside her. “This is John Smith, the new Duke of Gallifrey.” 

Melody curtsied as John bowed, but she said nothing, opting to smile pleasantly lest a repeat of the previous night’s conversation happened again. Melody knew that she could not trust herself to keep her mouth shut. 

“Don’t be rude, John,” said the Countess snappily. “Go and ask the lady for a drink.”

Melody felt the briefest flash of sympathy for the man. He was clearly not accustomed to denying his aunt what she asked of him. 

“Would you grant me the pleasure of getting you a drink?” he asked cordially, his cheeks turning the faintest pink. 

Melody found herself the subject of four pairs of eyes looking expectantly at her. Feeling rather less fond of the Countess and finding herself backed into a corner, she took the Duke’s outstretched hand. 

“It would be a pleasure, Your Grace.” she said demurely, looping an arm through his. 

She could feel the Countess’ satisfied smirk aimed at the back of her head as the Duke led her away from her parents and towards the tower of flowing champagne. The walk was tense and quiet, though Melody felt determined to look as though she was enjoying herself. She pasted a practiced, inviting smile on her face as she watched various couples dancing. 

“You like my aunt, don’t you?” the Duke asked suddenly. 

Melody blinked in surprise and looked up at him, quite forgetting her determination not to meet his eyes. His blue eyes were twinkling in a slightly amused and knowing way, but otherwise he remained rather expressionless and stoic. 

“How do you mean?” she asked, taken aback by the question and not quite knowing how to answer. 

“Most people find Aunty Missy quite difficult to deal with,” he said, still looking at her with that twinkle in his eyes. “But when she insulted you to your face, you weren’t offended. You seemed almost amused.”

Startled that he noticed the smile she hid as she greeted the Dowager Countess, she stared up at him. 

“I find her... uniquely charming,” she said, and was pleasantly surprised to see the Duke's lips turned ever so slightly upward at that. “I am flattered that she seems to pay extra attention to me.” 

“Most girls would abhor that.” the Duke pointed out.

Melody paused before lifting her shoulders in a casual shrug. “Most girls wouldn’t find her charming at all.”

They reached the tower of drink and he helped her take a glass. The tension that was previously between them was now all but forgotten.

“It seems that my aunt is hoping for us to marry,” he commented idly, and she choked on her sip of the champagne.

“What makes you say that?” she asked in astonishment, after hastily gulping. 

He looked at her curiously, as though studying her. Feeling examined, her cheeks started to flush and she gulped hastily at more drink. 

“Yesterday she said there was a girl she wanted me to meet. She absolutely refused to let me leave the party until I met her - that’s why I was so cross yesterday,” he added, his expression just shy of apologetic. “I was tired after a two day journey straight from my father’s funeral.”

“Oh,” Melody said, feeling quite awful and embarrassed that she’d been so rude to him. “I’m very sorry, Your Grace.”

The Duke waved her apology away. “He led a full life. Aunt Missy practically dragged me away once she saw you. You’re most probably who she wanted me to meet - she must hope for me to propose marriage.”

Melody snorted loudly into her glass, earning looks of disgust from passers-by. The Duke, on the other hand, frowned at her. He seemed caught between feeling affronted and amused, and Melody felt herself blushing again. 

“Oh, God, sorry, I was just -” she pinched her nose as her cheeks flamed red under his gaze. “I didn’t put you down as the marrying type. You look like the type of man to enjoy bachelorhood up until you’re knocking on death’s door.”

At this, he softened slightly. He didn’t look particularly offended or angry by her statement anymore. He merely raised an eyebrow and gave her a thoughtful look. 

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

Melody considered him carefully, looking him up and down for show as he rolled his eyes at her.

“Well…” she said thoughtfully. “For one, you’re quite a bit older than the other men here, which must mean that you’ve either not found the woman you want, or you haven’t been looking very much. I think it’s the latter - you don’t seem the desperate sort of man. Yesterday, you could’ve danced with any woman you wanted while waiting for Lady Smith to introduce me, but you were nursing a drink all by yourself. And an eligible duke such as yourself should not find himself any lack of potential suitors. Thus, the conclusion - you are unmarried of your own volition.”

He had an odd look in his eyes as she finished. She didn’t quite recognise it - it was strangely attractive and off-putting in equal measure. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of it - wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. 

She chose to ignore it, raising her eyebrows at him expectantly as she waited for an answer. He seemed to come back to himself at the expression on her face, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a small sip from it. 

“And what about you, Lady Melody?” he asked, his voice suddenly quite low and his eyes darkening just slightly. Without realising, she leaned towards him. “Two can play, you know?”

She raised her glass wordlessly and inclined her head, giving him permission to continue.

“You’re about one or two years away from spinsterhood,” he observed. “My Aunt told me you received and turned down more proposals than five girls put together. So what is it, my Lady?” he asked, leaning in to study her even closer. She held her breath as she looked into his eyes, finding herself unable to look away. “It isn’t the lack of perfectly eligible suitors - no, of course not. You are... you’re a free spirit. You’re afraid of the constraints of a marriage, but you participate in this social nonsense to please your parents. You love them very much, don’t you? You would never forgive yourself if you were the cause of their social ruin. So you turn down suitor after suitor, no matter how respectable and upright they are, until you age out of the suitable range for participation. Then no one can say that you never tried. And  _ you, _ Lady Melody, are quite free to continue living freely, without the burden of a marriage or a husband.”

He is directly in front of her, a maddening smirk on her face.

“Am I right?” he asked finally. 

Feeling quite hot suddenly, Melody finds herself unable to answer. She opened her mouth but her throat felt far too dry. Her slightly shaky hands lifted her glass up to her mouth as she stepped back from him and sipped gratefully at the alcohol, averting her eyes and purposefully avoiding his gaze.

Just as she felt the silence between them stretching too long; just as she felt like she was forced to stammer out an answer, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. 

Swivelling, she saw a man a few years younger than her looking hopeful - she vaguely remembered dancing with him the previous night. He looked at her, then at the Duke, hesitating slightly. 

“Could I ask you for a dance, my Lady?” he asked shyly.

Melody turned back to the Duke, indicating that she wanted to take the young man up on his offer. He nodded in understanding, taking her drink from her. She nodded gratefully and turned to let the other man escort her to the dance floor. 

Her dance partner was charming and adorable, but Melody was more relieved than anything to get away from John Smith, Duke of Gallifrey. She couldn’t believe it of herself - she couldn’t understand the sudden attraction she felt towards his striking blue eyes looking only at her. 

Her head began to swim at the thought. What did he think of her? Why had he been so cordial and perfectly respectable at one moment then charming and friendly the next? Was he  _ truly _ trying to court her or was he simply confusing like that? She didn’t know, and it was driving her quite mad, unable to focus on anything else - least of all any other man that asked her to dance with them. 

After her dance with the younger man, more and more suitors came up to her for a dance. Each time another suitor approached her, she managed to hide the look of surprise. After last night, she was quite sure that her charm on the other sex was wearing off. Evidently, it wasn’t.

As she turned down her latest offer, telling him regretfully that she was far too tired after dancing three songs straight, she headed for the balcony towards the gardens, craving for some fresh air. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked, smiling at a few people she recognised. She turned a corner but stopped abruptly when she saw who was at the end of the corridor - Earl Bearington. 

He looked up and met her eyes but she swivelled instantly, making a hasty retreat. She heard the sound of her loud footsteps following her and his voice calling her name but she ignored him, frantically searching for a place to hide. 

She turned into an empty corridor and cursed her dreadful luck. He was approaching fast now and she would no doubt be forced to hear of his intentions for marriage if she didn’t escape. 

He continued calling her name as her panicked gaze searched for something,  _ anything, _ that could help her. In the midst of her heart thumping harder and harder in her chest, she caught sight of a set of steps at the end of the hallway that no doubt led to the garden. It was dark, and amongst the leafy green bushes - he wouldn’t dare follow her there. He knew the consequences and he would surely want to avoid a scandal at all costs. 

Her feet carried her as fast as they could. She darted around hedges, trying to breathe quietly and lighten her footsteps so he wouldn’t be able to hear her. She found a corner, turned into it, and gasped at the sight that greeted her. 

It was the beautiful archway she passed and admired before the party. 

“Lady Melody,” said a voice from behind her.

She swivelled again, her eyes widening as she saw the silhouette of the out of breath Earl step out of the shadows and fully form. Quite unaware of anything else but the absurd situation in which the stupid man has now trapped her in, she felt anger fill her head at the sight of him. 

“How  _ dare _ you follow me?” she spat at him. “I am unchaperoned, Lord Bearington. It is dark out and we are  _ alone _ .”

“I know,” he smirked maddeningly, and he no doubt attempted to look suave and charming, but the redness in his face - and, quite seriously, everything else about him - rather put Melody off. He stepped towards her and she backed away, feeling like prey being cornered by its predator. “You’ve led me to the perfect place for a quiet rendezvous, haven’t you? What a delightful little minx you are.”

Fury flared in her at his words - what a senseless, oblivious joke this man was. He was still advancing on her, a hungry gleam in his eye that made her feel quite disgusted. How could he ever see desire and intent in her when she felt the complete opposite?

“You have mistaken my intentions, Lord Bearington.” she said firmly. “I had no desire to lead you into anything private, nor do I crave any sort of rendezvous with you.”

“Ladies often say one thing and mean another.” he said, though his brow furrowed in confusion.

“This lady does not,” she said, her tone carrying every evidence of a warning. “And if you -  _ let go of me! _ ”

He made a grab for her waist and she reacted instinctively - she pulled back and swung her right arm forward as hard as she could, landing a punch squarely on his face.

There was a curse and a cry of pain as her fist connected with his cheek, then he fell to the ground. The force of her punch knocked him out cold.

She gasped, her eyes wide as she stared at the figure of the Earl lying motionless on the ground. The reality of the situation started to sink in -  _ god,  _ he was an  _ Earl _ ! He had the power and influence to absolutely destroy her family because of this - her parents would be  _ ruined  _ because of her. 

Tears started gathering in her eyes as she continued staring at the damage she’d done. There was nowhere to run now - there was no way to hide from this. Come sunrise, or possibly even before that, her family would never be allowed to show their faces in the presence of the ton ever again. 

She felt an arm reach out to her and a quiet, soothing voice talking to her. She was only mildly aware of the fact that she was sobbing, albeit quietly.

“Lady Melody, it’s all right,” said a familiar voice, and she turned to find John Smith, the Duke of Gallifrey watching her. He placed a hand on her back, conscious not to touch her anywhere inappropriate as he tried to comfort her. Melody realised with faint surprise that she hadn’t recognised his voice at first because he’d lost his rough and gruff cadence and adopted a softer, more soothing tone. “It’s fine. It’ll be alright.”

“You don’t understand,” she whispered in between sobs, shaking her head as she turned away from him, torn between wanting to sob her heart out and wanting to be in private as she did that. “I did this to him, Your Grace. Tomorrow, he’ll tell everyone and my parents will be shunned. And it’s all my fault! I had to go and - and hit him!”

“You did quite a good job of it too,” he muttered, but when Melody merely looked at him with tear-filled eyes, he cleared his throat and said in a sterner tone, “It’s a good thing you did that. Men like him don’t deserve to live unscarred, Lady Melody.:”

She turned away, hiding her face as even more tears fell. She did not care about the man she hit - all she could think of were her mother and father and what this scandal would do to them. 

“What am I to do now?” she asked, despair dripping from every word. 

She flung herself on the bench and stared woodenly at the fallen Earl Bearington.

“Nothing,” the Duke said. She looked at him again, frowning. But his eyes were wide and sincere, and she instantly felt safer. “Do nothing, my Lady. Say nothing. Breathe not a word of this. I will fix this - I will pay him a visit and I will tell him that I saw him put his hands on you. He wouldn’t dare breathe after that.”

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. She could not comprehend why he was helping her.

“I... you would do that?” she asked, blinking at him in faint surprise.

He looked down at her, his blue eyes blinking severely as he surveyed her. She swallowed uneasily, unsure what exactly he expected in return for his kindness. 

“I am not heartless, Lady Melody,” he replied, curt and short. 

She looked away at that, feeling a little blush spread against her cheeks. Of course he didn’t - he wasn’t that sort of man, and in any case, he wouldn’t want  _ her _ . 

“No. No, you are not, Your Grace,” she said, swallowing. “I apologise. Thank you.”

They remained in silence for a few moments before he gestured back towards the hedges. 

“We should head back.” he said.

She shook her head. “I’d like to stay here a few more moments. I haven’t the stomach for more idle conversation with men.”

She threw the Earl a look of venom. The Duke struggled to repress a smile.

“Well, I haven’t the stomach for idle conversation with women either,” he said, sitting on the bench next to her but maintaining a respectful distance between them. “I guess I shall remain seated with you.”

But she shook her head again. “You should go. People will realise that you aren’t there.”

“And they won’t notice your absence?” he asked pointedly.

She rolled her eyes but said nothing, shutting them and feeling the cold wind on her face. She breathed in and out, feeling oddly at ease for the first time that night since she left the Duke’s side. 

Her eyes burst open at the thought as the Duke let out a sudden gasp. Previous thought forgotten at the odd sound he made, she turned to look at him only to find him staring at her, a wide smile stretching his face.

“I have a wonderful idea,” he said, excitement evident in his voice. She raised an eyebrow, unsure of whether she should feel amused or wary. “I shall court you until the end of the season.”

Melody wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard him correctly.

“What?” she asked blankly.

“Just for appearances,” he added a little hastily. “It’ll no doubt keep  _ him _ off your back. You’ll get to be the envy of every woman in the room. Your parents will be highly regarded if their daughter is being courted by a Duke.”

Melody’s lips curled. “Have you always been this self-important?”

The Duke blinked at her. “What part of that was self-important?”

Melody simply shook her head as she dried her eyes again, her smile turning more amused rather than wry. She turned to look back at the figure on the ground, then back to the Duke again. She didn’t know this man; she had no idea what his intentions were. He was just someone who happened to be there during a vulnerable moment - what if this was just another opportunity for a man to take advantage of her? 

After Earl Bearington, there was no way she could trust another man so easily - especially not immediately after. And besides, she knew men - what would he have to gain from pretending to court her? 

Narrowing her eyes slightly, she cast a suspicious look at him. Was he trying to entrap her into something she wouldn’t be able to escape? 

“And how will that arrangement benefit you?”

Melody could swear she saw a hint of pink in his cheeks as he shrugged and answered unconvincingly, “Well, it’ll keep Aunty Missy off my back. And all those ambitious mothers will stop trying to talk to me.”

She stared at him for a few long moments before nodding in satisfaction at his answer - if there was one thing she believed about him, it was that he loathed talking to anyone who tried to marry him off. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you genuinely considering this?”

“Why not?” he asked. “It’s a wonderful plan.”

“Yes, but - well, it has to be executed to perfection,” she said thoughtfully. “We have to really, truly sell the romance. We’ll have to look like we’re falling deeply, madly in love with each other. Do you think we can do that?”

The Duke stayed silent as he stared at her rather intensely. Realising the intimacy of her question, Melody flushed and started to stammer out an apology but he did not seem to be listening to her.

“Of course,” he said simply.

Melody paused, still hesitating. 

“But - we’ll have to make our courtship truly believable.” she stressed. “How about a dance later? That would be a good place to start, I think.”

“Do you even have room on your card?” he asked doubtfully.

She smiled coyly as she showed him the last empty space next to the last song. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

At this question, she paused again, thinking quietly. It certainly would keep Earl Bearington far away from her, which was a sheer bonus. Her parents - she hated to deceive them, but the alternative was much too painful to begin contemplating. Countess Smith would be delighted by the match, too. At least, until the season ended and they went their separate ways.

She nodded, then regarded him carefully. “Are you?” 

But unlike her, the Duke didn’t even take time to contemplate his answer, His lips curved ever so slightly into an imperceptible smile and he nodded. 

He stood, offering her his arm. His smile was hesitant, but Melody found this side of him both amused and charmed her.

They walked arm in arm towards the bright lights, loud music and indiscernible chatter. Her heart was pounding again - but this time it was out of excitement rather than anxiety. She had a feeling that she was going to find this ruse utterly exhilarating. 

As the Duke led her to the dance floor, she could feel the eyes of everyone in the ton watching them. Some were staring in astonishment; some in awe; others in poorly disguised envy.

Out of the corner of her eye, Melody saw Countess Smith standing alone, looking thoroughly satisfied. 

“Look into my eyes, my Lady,” he said softly to her as they prepared to dance. She relaxed into his arms as she looked up and did as he asked. She once again noted the brilliant colour of them - ocean blue. Sparkling. Quite mesmerising. “We are deeply in love.”

She smiled faintly as he stepped even closer to her, taking her hand in his and placing the other on her waist. She smiled back at him, looking at him with the most gentle, tender look she could muster. 

“We are deeply in love,” she repeated softly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe i hope you liked it :) please leave a kudos and a comment, pretty please with a cherry on top?


	2. we found something far greater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When word got out that Melody Williams had apparently stolen the notoriously single heart belonging to the Duke of Gallifrey, Melody found herself, once again, the center of the ton’s attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi dearies! so from this point onwards, im gonna make the chapters shorter. just from my viewpoint as a reader myself, posting massive 9k chapters can be quite daunting to read and i really wanna make this easier for as many of you as possible! i hope that's okay :)
> 
> thank you so much for all your lovely comments and kudos from the last chapter, im so glad you guys liked it.

_ “Romance was entirely out of the question for both of us. But in so removing it we found something far greater; we found friendship.” _

_ Simon Basset, Bridgerton. _

When word got out that Melody Williams had apparently stolen the notoriously single heart belonging to the Duke of Gallifrey, Melody found herself, once again, the center of the ton’s attention. Suddenly, more men found her much more desirable than the season’s diamond debutante. And, much to her amusement, she found herself the subject of many envious stares from the ladies of the ton, the most vicious of which came from Lady Clarissa Oswald, the mother of the beauty that had been named the diamond of the first season, the incomparable Miss Clara Oswald. 

The Duke’s plan was, so far, working wonders. Her parents were endlessly pleased by the match. Indeed, whenever they saw the Duke approaching Melody, they would try to maintain a facade of indifference that did not fool anyone. It greatly amused Melody to see her parents so entirely satisfied and content with the result, but it quickly faded when she realised that it was only temporary. How heartbroken and disappointed they would be. 

“There you are, Lady Melody.” said the familiar voice of the Duke from behind her. “Have you been hiding from me?”

Melody smiled as they greeted each other. It was so remarkably easy to pretend to be fond of the man - she was beginning to believe that she  _ was _ fond of him. Nothing untoward, of course. The Duke was merely so grumpy and unco-operative to everybody that it extended well past unpleasantness and resulted in her finding him quite amusing. 

To her surprise and astonishment, she found that the sentiment was returned. The Duke found her views on high society refreshing and unconventional. He refused to state his own views plainly, which gave Melody plenty to tease him about. He didn’t seem particularly offended by her ribbing - in fact, he often delighted himself by reciprocating just enough of it. 

She was amazed at how naturally they managed to maintain their courtship. Since its conception five nights ago, they have hardly spent time apart. They made sure to be seen dancing at parties, lunching at restaurants and occasionally promenading along the parks as the ton had tea and picnicked together. 

Now, Melody felt sure that she and John had the rapport that she shared with Donna. It was difficult not to form a sort of relationship when they were kept in such close quarters together. At first, it disconcerted her that she felt herself thinking of John as a close friend. After all, friendship had never been on the table when they first discussed their plan. But as time went on, she realised that their fondness for each other was entirely mutual - and that comforted her tremendously. 

“I have done no such thing, sir,” she replied, quirking an eyebrow at him. She shut the book she’d been pretending to read,  _ Sense and Sensibility, _ and stood, taking his outstretched hand. She was sure her parents wouldn’t miss her if she was with the Duke. “Thank you for the most marvellous set of China, by the way. Mother swooned over it - I’m sure if she could wear them as jewelry, she would.”

The Duke chuckled as they linked arms and began walking.

Part of their ruse was making sure that he sent the Williams’ an extraordinary amount of the most exquisite gifts he could afford. It had started when she suggested that he bought her flowers so as to keep up appearances. The Duke was quite against conventional gifts and protested adamantly. No matter how much Melody pouted or sulked, he wouldn’t be swayed, and she simply gave it up in the end. 

And so it was with utter amazement that she woke up the next morning to an extravagant breakfast provided by the Duke, accompanied with the most magnificent bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen. Her mother had been beside herself with excitement while her father merely beamed at her. 

“I am glad you liked my gifts, Miss Williams,” he said. “I had begun to fear that you would tire of my unusual tastes.”

“On the contrary, it is exciting to predict what the nature of your next present is, quite aware that my precious predictions have been wrong.” she said, smiling up at him. The afternoon sun was high in the sky, casting a shadow upon the Duke’s face. Before he could answer, she began tentatively, “My Lord, should we drop the use of formalities? I feel that we should know each other well enough by now?”

The Duke inclined his head thoughtfully. 

“I suppose we must cross that bridge eventually,” he said, before looking down at her and bowing deeply. “You look positively enchanting today, Melody.”

She laughed before curtseying in an exaggerated manner, earning a rather hearty chortle from the Duke.

“And you, John, are simply the most dashing in a mile.”

“Only in a mile?” he asked, setting his lips in a mocking pout. 

“A mile was quite generous,” she sassed him in reply. 

His blue eyes narrowed themselves into a fierce glare but Melody, having been at the receiving end of that particular look many times over the last five days, neither shrunk nor apologised in reply. She merely smiled charmingly at him until he rolled his eyes in defeated annoyance.

“What will you do after this?” she asked curiously. The life of a Duke ought to be exciting enough. “Back to the country?”

John shook his head. “Aunty Missy wants me to stay with her for a little while, while the Tardis is being sorted back home.”

The Tardis Estate was the name of the Duke’s wonderful residence back home in Gallifrey. John spoke of it with much fondness, much like how Melody spoke of Leadworth Manor. 

“You must be excited to stay with her.” she said.

He tilted his head a little. “That’s not the word I’d use.”

“You can’t deny that your Aunty wouldn’t exactly be a bore to live with,” she said, smiling at the thought of John having to put up with the Dowager Countess day after day.

“I declined her offer,” John said finally. Melody turned to look at him in surprise. “I can’t bear the thought of staying still at the moment. I’d like to travel, I think. See the sights for a while.”

“That sounds nice,” Melody agreed, feeling a little envious of him. “Have you decided where you want to go then?”

“It’s far too early for that,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned towards her and gazed at her with interest. “What about you?”

Melody shrugged, sighing a little. “Well, I’ll go about as usual, I’ll suppose,” she said unenthusiastically. “Except everyone will most probably look at me differently for failing to marry anyone. Their pitiful stares and hushed whispers will carry on behind my back - but I shan’t give them any thought.”

He raised an eyebrow at her in curiosity. “What would you like to do?”

She met his eyes with a small smile. “I’m sure you wouldn’t approve.”

“Who cares if I don’t?” he pointed out, and her smile widened a little. “Tell me what you’d do if the people you loved approved of it.”

She stayed silent for a while, studying his expression. He was giving her a little challenge, and she was never one to refuse those. Looking ahead, she resumed their slow pace as she talked. 

“I’ve always wanted to travel and see the world too,” she admitted, and a faraway look appeared in her eyes. “I want to feel the wind in my hair for a while - have a proper adventure. One with danger and excitement, one where I can feel the thrill of life. I want to go someplace where the burden of what everyone thinks of me is but an imagination. I want to be able to go out and cause a scandal without it tarnishing my family’s name. I want to have  _ fun _ .”

Her eyes sparkled and gleamed in the sunlight. Her face shone with wild excitement for the sheer possibilities of what could happen. Her every movement seemed to vibrate with passion as he watched, a small, fond smile fixed on his face as he listened with rapt attention. 

She smiled as she finished, looking intensely pleased. She felt immense satisfaction just by  _ sharing _ her distant hopes for the future. 

“So I  _ was _ right that night?” he asked. She quirked an eyebrow in question and he clarified, “That night, before the gardens. I said you didn’t want to marry because of freedom.”

“Yes and no,” she said slowly, contemplating slightly. “I - I - well, marriage is difficult for me. My parents - they’ve set a certain standard and it’s - well, it’s hard to beat. They are so completely devoted to each other. Their love is just - it’s so unlike others. I see my peers’ parents and compare them to mine and it just doesn’t compare at all. Like comparing a seedling to a fully bloomed flower; my parents cherish each other in a way I’ve never seen any other man and woman do. And growing up watching them, I just - I know I’ll never truly be happy until I find someone who’ll love me as much as they love each other. Someone  _ I’ll _ love just as much.”

She looked up at him and he nodded slowly in understanding. 

“So…” he said slowly, furrowing his brow. “You’re saying that you’ll only marry... for love?” 

She nodded. There was a pause before he turned to her, grinning in that maddening way. 

“Who would have known that the unattainable Melody Pond was such a romantic?” he teased, and she scowled at him as she whacked his arm in retaliation. “You should proclaim an announcement. Melody Pond  _ does _ have a heart, everyone! We could even make a competition of it - the man who wins her heart wins also her hand in marriage!”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face gave her away. “Shut up, you beast."

But he continued teasing her all throughout their promenade, giving her ample reason to trod purposefully hard on his feet as they danced later that night. 

*

Donna’s reaction to the Duke courting Melody was equally as aggravating as everyone else’s. 

“Oh, look at you!” Donna nudged her playfully. “Mr Fancy-pants fancying the pants off you. Have you gone all prim and proper now with his company?”

“Shut up,” Melody said fondly as Donna grinned. 

“Don’t go forgetting me when you become a fancy Duchess,” Donna warned. 

Melody turned away, her stomach churning guiltily. 

“You’ll be Baroness long before I become a Duchess, I assure you,” Melody said casually, but Donna turned pink at the implication. Melody raised an eyebrow. “What? Isn’t that Baron Lee with the funny walk still courting you?”

“He is,” she answered slowly before sighing. “But I just realised that I know nothing about him. He doesn’t talk much.”

“Well, you certainly talk enough for two people,” Melody said dryly, but Donna shot a glare at her that sobered her instantly. “Alright, alright. What do you know about him?”

Donna paused for a moment, thinking carefully. 

“All the usual things,” she shrugged. “The oldest in the family, four sisters, one brother, his father died five years ago and he wants kids.”

Melody blinked. “Is that it?” she asked in surprise. Blimey, she knew more about John than Donna knew about Lee and she wasn’t even going to marry him.

Donna bristled in annoyance at her tone. “Of course not! I just - can’t think of anything else just yet,” she said quietly, looking doubtful of herself. She sighed again. “And I’ve been telling him all sorts of things about myself that are utterly ridiculous. After our first dance, he asked what I thought of the music, and I told him it was much too ghostly.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Melody asked, bewildered by how distressed Donna was.

Donna looked at her friend, biting her lip. “And then I told him it sounded like my grandmama was coming back from the dead. And before I knew it, I spent fifteen minutes telling him about how cousin Edith was possessed by grandmama’s spirit for an entire week. She ate nothing but gooseberry pie, which was grandmama’s favourite thing to eat.”

Melody stared at her for a few moments. “And that didn’t scare him off?” she asked incredulously. 

Donna sighed helplessly. “I am such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Melody said firmly, feeling bad about teasing her friend. “You are beautiful and charming and if the Baron is still interested in you even after that ghastly story then you’ve got nothing to worry about. If you still like him, tell him. Ask him about himself - let  _ him _ do the talking for once.”

Melody tapped Donna’s chin fondly and she smiled gratefully in return, nodding in understanding. 

“God, this is  _ hard _ ,” she moaned. “ _ How _ did you manage to stand this torture for  _ seven years? _ I’m already going mad in my third.”

Melody couldn’t hold back the unladylike snort that escaped her. Just a few nights ago, she punched an Earl so hard in the nose that he lost consciousness. After that, a Duke asked her to pretend to be his consort so that he could avoid his aunt’s prying questions. Whatever Donna thought of herself, at least she had a legitimate match whom she was fond of. 

“It’s the experience.” she said dryly. 

At that, Donna perked up a little. 

“Yes, don’t distract me!” she shoved Melody’s arm as she sat next to her on the sofa. “I want to hear all about the Duke. Even the nasty, dirty details, mind.”

Melody shrugged in response. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell, dear. He’s frightfully boring.”

“You don’t seem particularly keen on him,” Donna observed, frowning at her friend. “The entire ton has been gushing about how disgustingly smitten you are with each other, but with your own best friend you’re as mum as a mouse? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Melody answered as innocently as possible, widening her eyes. At Donna’s suspicious gaze, she sighed in exasperation. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, but I know  _ you _ ,” Donna replied stubbornly. “And remember when your father had that visitor from the Navy come in? What was his name? It was something like Hal or Haw or - Harkness! Jack Harkness!”

Melody raised an eyebrow at her friend, ignoring the flush in her cheeks. “Jack Harkness was a bloody rake, Donna.” 

“Rake or not, you wouldn’t shut up about how hot he was,” Donna reminded her unnecessarily, and Melody turned away. “Do you not fancy the Duke? Is that it? I mean - alright, he’s not  _ quite _ Jack Harkness, but he’s terribly good-looking in his own right.”

“He is,” Melody muttered, and a sudden vision of John’s smile swam before her eyes. Shaking the image away, she said to Donna, “He’s amazing and wonderful.”

Donna stared blankly at her. “You are a horrible, terrible liar, Melody Pond. You’re not in love with him at all, are you? Why have you been going on about like this?” 

Melody opened her mouth to answer but realised quickly that she didn’t have one - ruse or not, she just couldn’t bring herself to lie right in Donna’s face. She was her best friend, and besides the fact that she knew Melody all too well, Melody also couldn’t lie to her about something this important in their lives. 

“No, I’m not in love with him.” she admitted dully, sighing.

“I knew it! Well? Why have you been pretending? What’s the point of it all?” Donna demanded. “Moreover, why are you even paying attention to him if you aren’t interested? Have you not learned  _ anything _ from Lord Bingsley?”

“John is  _ nothing _ like Ramone,” Melody denied, shaking her head resolutely. “He isn’t pigheaded - not when it comes to things like this. If I make it painstakingly obvious that I’m not interested, he’ll leave. He won’t bother me again.”

“What is it, then?” Donna asked, confused.

Melody paused briefly, thinking about what she should say. She couldn’t lie to Donna - but a promise was a promise, and she couldn’t tell her the entire truth and implicate John either. Sighing as she held her hand to her forehead, she decided that the safest course of action was best. 

She would tell her the truth. But not all of it, just a tiny,  _ tiny _ fraction of why she wanted John around. And as she opened her mouth to tell Donna, she felt genuinely surprised at just how much she meant the words she was about to say. 

“I just - I enjoy his company greatly, Donna.” she said quietly. 

Donna gave her a dubious look. “His  _ company? _ Melody, that man is properly in love with you!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course he isn’t,” Melody replied, a little too quickly. “He just lost his father a few weeks ago, he’s just lonely, Donna.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Donna said, crossing her arms. “I saw you two dancing yesterday. He was smiling. But the moment you were off with someone else, he went back to his sour face.”

“We’re friends, Donna,” she said. “We enjoy each other’s company, and - well, we like talking to each other. It’s comfortable and easy and he doesn’t make me want to tie a noose around my neck every time he starts a conversation.”

“Well, make  _ sure _ you’re both on the same page,” Donna told her sternly. “What if he’s expecting something more? Or worse, what if he thinks  _ you’re _ in love with him, too? You’d just be leading him on, the poor fellow.” 

Melody almost snorted yet again at the notion that John could possibly be in love with her. They’d spent nearly a week with each other’s company but she couldn’t imagine such a grumpy and unagreeable man falling in love with anybody, least of all herself. If the Duke of Gallifrey were to ever fall in love, Melody was sure that she was nowhere near the woman he’d fall for. 

“It’s really all right, Donna,” Melody assured her friend confidently. “Right now, we’re good friends, and that’s enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! would love if you guys could leave a comment! :)


	3. some battles leave no victor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first round of engagements and weddings went by remarkably quickly. In the next three days there were seven engagements and three betrothals, two of which Melody herself had been invited to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the comments/kudos for the last chapter!

_ “All is fair in love and war but some battles leave no victor, only a trail of broken hearts that makes us wonder if the price we pay is ever worth the fight.” _

_ Lady Whistledown, Bridgerton. _

The first round of engagements and weddings went by remarkably quickly. In the next three days there were seven engagements and three betrothals, two of which Melody herself had been invited to. 

John seemed reluctant to accompany her, and she soon found out why at her old schoolmate Lady Martha Jones’ wedding to the Marquess of Weatherby, Mickey Smith. He was completely incapable of sitting still, fidgeting restlessly and looking around for the time. He seemed to be utterly disinterested by the sight of a bride and groom being wed.

As his eyes strayed towards the small crowd gathered at the church for the fourth time, Melody stealthily lifted her foot up and trod, quite purposefully, on John’s toes. 

The satisfied smirk that spread across her face was met with a strangled yelp and a deathly glare. His blue eyes seemed to radiate contempt at her, but what amused her even further was the fact that his lower lip had jutted out ever so slightly in a lopsided pout. 

“What was that for?” he demanded, hissing angrily at her as he moved his foot pointedly away from hers in the cramped pew of the church. 

“This is a  _ wedding _ , you’re being utterly disrespectful,” she hissed back. He shrank back a little but his defiant glare remained, stubborn as ever. “Now, be a good boy and stop moving. Try to look like you’re enjoying the ceremony.”

He sat back against the pew and folded his arms across his chest with childlike petulance, making the corners of Melody’s lips twitch slightly.

Later, at the reception, John was cheerfully filling his plate with various pastries as Melody stared at him. He then poured himself a cup of coffee, helping himself to no less than six sugar cubes. She stared at him with raised eyebrows. 

“What?” he asked, catching her look.

“ _ Six _ sugars?” she asked, giving his cup an incredulous look. 

“I like my coffee sweet,” he said. “And I need to drink it now, otherwise I’m rather unpleasant to be around.”

“Not more than usual, surely?” Melody asked innocently. His only response was to glare at her over the rim of his cup as he sipped. “Is that why you were so unbearably fidgety during the ceremony?”

He nodded tightly. “I usually have a cup for breakfast but Aunt Missy doesn’t drink coffee so she didn’t have any. And the supply I had with me ran out the day before yesterday.” he sighed and took another grateful sip of his coffee. “Had no idea those bloody things took so long. Just another reason not to get married, don’t you agree?”

Melody deliberated for a moment, considering. “I’ll never turn down a reason to wear a stunning gown,” she said, and John rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly. “I’d enjoy the ceremony and the celebration of it all - but the marriage itself probably isn’t worth the one night of glamour."

John gave her a look of fond amusement, his eyes studying her intently. She merely gave him a coy smile and went back to her tea, sipping gratefully. 

And so Melody made sure to present John with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, made with six sugars, at the next wedding they attended. She also took the liberty of having the cook bake extra biscuits, which she hid in a glove in her purse. 

There was a curious expression on John’s face as she revealed the items to him outside the church. It was one of genuine appreciation, but there was something there, in his lovely blue eyes, that she didn’t recognise. If she had to describe it, she would say it was almost… soft. Gentle, somehow. His rough, fierce features rarely ever looked gentle, or anything even approaching the meaning of the word. She couldn’t understand why he was looking at her like that at all. 

He seemed to realise suddenly that the silence between them had stretched considerably and the atmosphere around them was almost certainly becoming awkward. 

He cleared his throat as he took the tumbler of coffee from her, smiling at her and nodding gratefully. She tried not to look quite so flushed, but the look he gave her was now imprinted behind her eyelids and she wasn’t sure why she was so entirely disarmed by it. What could it mean?

“Thank you, Melody,” he said, his voice sincere and soft. 

She felt a rush of warmth at the gratefulness in his voice. Smiling back at him, she tilted her head towards the church door.

“Shall we?” she asked. 

He nodded, offering his arm. They tried to be quiet as they were the last to arrive and the ceremony was starting, but once the other guests realised who just entered, more and more heads started swivelling around to see them. 

Already used to the attention, John and Melody sat themselves at the last row of seats, which were the only ones left. Once heads stopped turning back, Melody popped her purse open and slid the glove out, offering the first biscuit to John.

“My cook makes the best biscuits,” she told him proudly as he bit into one and nodded approvingly. “She has a special recipe for it but she absolutely refuses to share.”

John suddenly sat upright, frowning as he looked at the couple up front, holding hands and smiling at each other. His lips started to twitch before he took a deep breath and composed himself, looking down at his coffee. 

“What? What is it?” Melody asked, confused.

In the row in front of them, a woman with brunette hair in an extravagant updo turned to her with a stern look. Melody recognised her as Lady Clarissa Oswald, and she hastily apologised before turning back to John and tugging at his sleeve. 

“Okay, okay - stop it, will you? You’re a menace,” John hissed. 

He took another biscuit from her glove and held it up in front, beckoning her to lean in and see it from his perspective. She did as he wanted and immediately realised what had made him suppress laughter before - the wedding dress donned by the bride was in the exact same shape as the biscuits. The skirts of the dress were stiff and heavy, and though the expression on the bride’s face was of love and joy, she could not quite hide the discomfort she felt. As she turned to receive the ring, John moved the biscuit in time with the skirt. 

Melody snorted, chortling as peals of laughter escaped her. John started to break too, but he sobered as Lady Oswald turned to glare at Melody a second time. 

“I’m terribly sorry, Lady Oswald,” Melody said, turning red from embarrassment. “Really, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Forgotten your medicine, perhaps?” she answered coldly, and turning back before either of them could answer. 

“That was all your fault!” she said to John later as they filed out of church. 

“How was I to know that you’d make the most appalling sound while laughing?” he answered, giggling along with her. 

“You are beastly, John Smith.” she shook her head in mock disdain. 

“And you, Melody Williams, have the laugh of a boar under attack.”

She whacked his arm again. “All this, after sharing biscuits with you? I would never have guessed it of you, my Lord.”

They continue bickering the entire way to the reception, trying their hardest to make the other laugh with the most ridiculous insults they can think of. As they found their seats and the crowd settled down to begin their meals, John winked at her and put a finger to his lips.

When Melody realised it was Earl Bearington that John had his eye on, she couldn’t help the excited grin that pulled at her lips. He smiled back as his long fingers snuck a ball of crushed brown paper from the table. The Earl was only a table away, his back to them. But there were so many people walking about that it would be a challenge to hit their target. 

John took aim, lining the ball up with his vision and throwing it with such accurate precision that it neatly struck the back of the Earl’s head. The Earl stood from his chair, confusion clear on his face as he turned around to see what disturbed him. John picked up his utensils and began eating nonchalantly; even the Earl with a stoic nod. 

Melody, however, completely lost control of her faculties at the expression on the Earl’s face. She turned towards John and clutched his sleeve with force, her head bent down to hide her breathless giggles. 

The Earl, having caught sight of John, nodded back curtly and sat back down.

“Pull yourself together” John whispered, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

“It’s your fault,” she answered between giggles, as her laughter subsided and she let go of his sleeve. “You are an absolute beast, John.”

They continued on with their meal, chatting amicably. As people started to dance and their tables cleared, John and Melody were the only ones left seated. They were enjoying themselves by discreetly picking people out from the dance square, pointing out the funny way they skipped or the amusing wince and defeated smile they gave as their partner stepped on their toes.

As John left to fetch more lemonade for them, Melody sat alone at the table. A tap on her shoulder made her turn around. 

“Oh,” she said in surprise, standing to curtsey to Lady Oswald. “Forgive me, Lady Oswald. You startled me.” 

But Lady Oswald showed no sign of forgiveness. Her brown eyes stared cold and hard at melody. Her nose was upturned, and when she spoke it was in that same falsely polite, arrogant voice that grated Melody.

“Some of us couldn’t help but notice the way you behave ever since that Duke has shown an interest in you,” she said importantly. “And we agree that you should be told that your conduct has been most shameful of late.”

Melody’s eyebrows rose. “Pardon me, my Lady. but I do not see how that is any of your business.”

“Do you suppose that just because a Duke is courting you, you are not to maintain a certain level of elegance and sophistication?” she continued derisively, ignoring Melody. 

Melody set her lips in a thin line, refusing to reply and settling instead for glaring at the Lady. 

“Your conduct at the ceremony was repulsive,” she said coldly. “You should be quite ashamed of yourself, Miss Williams.”

“Melody should be ashamed of laughing and enjoying herself?” came a strong, deep voice from behind Melody, and she swivelled to see John with two glasses in his hands. “Forgive me, my Lady, but that sounds quite ludicrous. Even stupid.”

Lady Oswald seemed taken aback by John’s presence. Her eyes darted up towards him as her mouth opened in surprise. She flushed red and blinked rapidly, apparently quite stupefied. 

“Well, I - that is to say, I only meant - I didn’t -” she babbled stupidly.

“Like I said before, Lady Oswald,” Melody interrupted the incoherent stammers of the other woman. “I don’t believe it is any of your business how I choose to conduct myself. Good day.”

She turned and grabbed John’s arm, leaving Lady Clarissa Oswald gobsmacked and alone. She huffed as she led them towards a pillar by the corridor. She took one glass from John and swigged it, rather wishing that it was something much stronger than lemonade. 

John looked curiously at Melody. 

“That lady seems to have something against you,” he remarked casually.

“Lady Clarissa Oswald,” she replied. “The mother of this year’s Incomparable Miss Clara Oswald.”

“So?” he asked.

She gave him an exasperated sigh. “The old hag is obviously jealous that her daughter didn’t manage to capture the attention of the highest ranking suitor in the market. She’s furious that some tart who’s almost too old to be married is being courted by you instead of her young daughter.”

John frowned in disapproval. “You are not a tart in any way, Melody.”

She looked touched for a fraction of a second before sighing again. “I’d like to return home now, please. If I am to see that dreadful hag of a face one more time today I shan’t have the stomach to go to tonight’s party.”

As they headed for the exit, John said, “I meant it, you know. You’re not a tart at all.”

Melody smiled.

“Not in the traditional sense, anyway; most tarts are sweet and you, dear Melody, are the most bitter person I’ve met.”   


She bit back a smile and reminded herself to step especially hard on his foot later.

“I hate you, you utter beast.” she muttered. 

He smiled at the expression on her face. 

“No you don’t.” he said. 

*

Before Melody even had the chance of looking for John at the party that night, she was pulled aside by a small, pretty young girl with dark hair and wide eyes. Lady Clara Oswald was the spitting image of her mother - with the exception of the upturned nose. 

Melody raised an eyebrow at the young woman. “Yes, dear?”

“I - I just wanted to say that I’m truly sorry about the way Mother acted earlier at the wedding,” she said quickly and nervously, as though afraid that Melody would be annoyed at her. “You see, she thinks that since I’m this season’s Incomparable, the Duke should be courting me instead. She thinks I deserve his attentions and is extremely displeased that he’s shown no interest at all. But I must tell you,” she grabbed Melody’s hand, her wide eyes staring into hers, “I do not share her beliefs at all. I am very,  _ very _ content with my suitor at present and I do not require, nor do I want, the Duke’s attention. I feel so terrible that she accosted you over something outrageously petty.”

Melody stared at Lady Clara for a few moments, quite surprised by what she was saying. She had never been close to her before; she always thought that she would be exactly like her mother - snooty, haughty, condescending and thoroughly unlikeable. 

“It’s quite alright, Lady Clara. No harm done,” Melody smiled reassuringly as she patted the girl’s hand. She felt a twinge of guilt for having judged her before they even met properly. Her eyes twinkled slightly as she said, “Did you say you’re content with your suitor?”

Lady Clara blushed suddenly. “Yes,” she said, her expression both shy and excited. “Marquess Daniel Pink. He’s rather charming.”

Melody raised her eyebrows, impressed. “My, my, a Marquess? Certainly not a far cry from a Duke, my dear. He hasn’t proposed yet?”

“Not yet,” she answered, her expression falling slightly. But she brightened up and beamed at Melody as she continued, “I suppose it’s just a matter of time before he does.”

“And when the time comes, I shall look forward to calling you Marchioness, Clara Oswald.” Melody said. 

Lady Clara’s smile widened. “And I shall look forward to calling  _ you _ Duchess in the future, Melody Williams.”

They curtsied to each other, Melody trying her best to hide the rather disappointed stab she felt when she realised no one would sooner be calling her Duchess than Queen. 

As Lady Clara strode off to meet her suitor, John seemed to materialise at her place. Melody gave a startled exclamation, having not noticed his presence. As she opened her mouth to retort sharply about his greeting, she realised that he was presenting her with something. 

It was wrapped in brown paper and tied neatly with white string. The package was rectangular and it definitely would not fit in her purse. John looked particularly pleased with himself as he held it out to her, gesturing for her to take it. 

“Another gift?” she asked, taking the package from him and undoing the string. Though she tried to hide it, John could see the excitement in her smile. “You spoil me, John.”

The brown wrapping fell away and she found herself holding a book. Reading the title carefully, she gasped and looked up at him in surprise and wonder.

“The new Jane Austen?” she asked, her voice awed, as she opened the book and flicked through the pages. She felt its weight in her hand and turned it over again, reading the title aloud. “Persuasion.”

“I noticed you were reading  _ Sense and Sensibility _ whenever we would promenade,” he said, becoming uncharacteristically bashful as he watched her reaction carefully. His blue eyes seemed to shine with as much enthusiasm as Melody’s. “And the first time we spoke, you quoted  _ Pride and Prejudice _ .”

She stopped flicking through the book and looked up at him in shock. “You remembered what I said?”

He frowned, not understanding why it was so shocking to her. “Shouldn’t I?”

“No, no - I only meant -” Melody blustered, before holding the book to her chest and smiling warmly at him. “Thank you, John. It’s so incredibly thoughtful of you to get me something like this. I love it.”

He looked so sincerely happy at her reaction and she felt a sudden urge to lean up towards him. The feeling was so unfamiliar and so sudden that her natural instincts were triggered, preventing her from moving impulsively. 

Instead, she stared into his eyes and marvelled at the brilliant blue. He seemed to be staring straight back at her as though he was admiring her, too - but she knew that it didn’t mean anything. After all, hadn’t he always looked at her that way?

“I’ll just - I’ll give this to my father to hold,” she said softly, realising that the silence between them had stretched quite a long while. She smiled awkwardly before looking down at her shoes, feeling suddenly breathless. “I’ll see you later, John.”

She left him by the entrance and moved quickly into a deserted corridor. Her heart felt like it was hammering unsteadily in her chest. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as she did when she stood there, smiling at John. It felt as though her heart was telling her that she  _ wanted _ him. But her heart was most definitely wrong.

Wasn’t it?

She couldn’t want  _ John _ \- he was rude and uncouth and much too arrogant for her taste. And yet he wasn’t.

Hadn’t he shown her, in the last week and a half, a side of him that was completely different? Hadn’t he been kind, funny and generous ever since their friendship had been established?

She looked down at the book she was holding. She never would’ve thought that the man she’d bumped into at that first ball was capable of buying such a thoughtful gift. She certainly hadn’t told him that she loved reading  _ Jane Austen _ \- he remembered little details like what she said and what she brought, and he managed to figure it all out by himself. 

Her heart raced as she realised everything he’d done for her - intimidated Earl Bearington, pretended to be her suitor, purchased ridiculously expensive gifts to maintain their charade. He even went so far as to befriend her and defended her against Lady Oswald. 

Had she been utterly blind all along? Was he courting her by pretending to court her? Now that she thought about it, his entire excuse for agreeing to the ruse was feeble at best. If Count Smith bothered him that much, he could have hopped on his horse and rode back to Gallifrey. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stayed here. With her.

“That utter beast,” she muttered to herself, her voice shaking slightly.

She quickly wiped her eyes, sniffling a little. It was impossible to think about anything other than John. What exactly was his intention? He had nothing to gain by playing this ruse, but everything to lose. If the ton found out about their little charade, he would lose all credibility. 

Her mind was muddled and confused, but as she imagined John’s blue eyes looking into hers, she knew at least one single thing. 

She was in love with John Smith, Duke of Gallifrey.

She blinked stupidly at the realisation, staring in wondrous amazement at the book he just gifted her. What was she to do now? How can she carry on with this damned act of theirs now that she knew her heart was on the line? Could she risk allowing herself to hope that John felt the same way too?

“Melody?” 

Her head shot up at the brisque, clear voice she could recognise in her sleep. John strode towards her and her eyes widened, panic-stricken.

“John, what are you doing here?” she asked, but he ignored her, frowning. “I’m  _ unchaperoned _ !”

“Are you crying?” he asked, concerned. His eyes moved down towards the book in her hands and back up to face her again. She turned away, shielding the tears that built slowly. “Melody?”

“John, please,” she pleaded weakly, wiping furiously at her eyes. The sight of him looking so worried over her made her heart melt and break in equal measure - was this what love felt like? “Please go, before someone sees us - ”

“But you’re crying,” he said stubbornly. “Is it the book? Do you not want it? It seemed like a good idea at the time…” 

He trailed off, the same concerned expression on his face as he stepped hesitantly towards her. She turned even further away, her eyes screwed up tight lest she memorise the way his eyes seemed to trail over her. She couldn’t believe how quickly her mind accepted the fact that she was in love with him. Now her every instinct was screaming at her to fling herself into his arms and kiss him with every fibre of her being.

“It isn’t the book, John.” she said, trying to sound angry and exasperated but instead sounding utterly pitiful. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, still frowning in concern. She could feel him just a few steps behind her. “Whatever it is I did, I’m really sorry, Melody.”

“I’m not crying because of you, you beast,” she lied snappily, bowing her head. 

“I find you not ten minutes after giving you that gift to find you crying, clearly having not spoken to anyone else,” he told her. “Are you really sure about that?”

She turned to face him but realised her mistake immediately. His entire expression seemed to convey concern, desire and longing. He looked like he’d laid his eyes upon the most exquisite of jewels and yet was not permitted to touch it.

She blinked and shook her head.

“Shut up,” she whispered, and she leant in. 

They seemed to move simultaneously - neither was sure who made the first move. The book fell to the floor with an echoing  _ thud _ and they were entangled together, her arms wound tightly around his neck as his fingers grasped her waist. 

It was so much built up tension overflowing - her fingers ran through his brown locks as their tongues moved. She felt relief and want and so much  _ love _ coursing through her body that she couldn’t bring herself to hold back. Caution was thrown entirely out the window and all she wanted was John, now. And the way he was ardently kissing and touching her made her certain that the feeling was entirely mutual. 

But as John pushed her back against the wall, she heard the thunderous voice of her mother cry, “Melody Williams!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! hope you enjoyed the story! if you have a moment, i would love a comment 🥺👉🏽👈🏽


	4. leave you with nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Amelia demanded of them, stalking almost dangerously towards where they stood, still frozen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the kind comments i received for the last chapter! im so glad ya'll are enjoying the story :)

_ “Pride, Your Grace... it will cost you everything and leave you with nothing.” _

_ Lady Danbury, Bridgerton.  _

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Amelia demanded of them, stalking almost dangerously towards where they stood, still frozen. 

They hastily sprang apart as she approached, a furious glare fixed on her face. She turned her eyes on John, who winced and did not meet her eye.

“How  _ dare _ you?” she hissed, and Melody could see not only the anger, but the disappointment in her mother’s piercing eyes. “What if I had been anyone else? Do you have any idea how  _ thoughtless _ that was?” 

“Mother, I -” Melody started, but Amelia whirled around on her, too. 

“And  _ you _ , Melody,” she said, her expression changing as she faced her daughter. There was no anger. There was no fury, as there had been with John - Melody could only see cold, hard disappointment in her mother’s face. Somehow, that was a thousand times worse than the alternative. “What were you thinking, sneaking about out in the open like this? I’ve taught you better.”

“It isn’t her fault, my Lady,” John spoke from behind her.

Melody chanced a look at him, but his eyes were fixed on the Viscountess. His head was bowed apologetically, but there was no other emotion in his eyes. 

Melody didn’t understand how he could remain expressionless so easily. Her own heart and mind were still reeling from the kiss they just shared. How could he look so wholly unaffected by what just happened?

“I pushed her,” John lied. Melody bowed her head as tears stung her eyes. “She was seduced - we lost our heads.”

“You have,” Amelia agreed grimly. “You’ve defiled my daughter out in the open, Your Grace.”

“That was not my intention.” John said quietly.

“That is what happened.” Amelia replied plainly. “You will do the honourable thing for my daughter and our families. You will ask my husband for Melody’s hand in marriage in the morning.”

“Mother -” Melody protested weakly.

“I cannot marry your daughter, my Lady,” he cut across Melody, lifting his head and looking plainly into Amelia’s eyes.

There was a moment of silence in which Melody closed her eyes and Amelia stared at John in disbelief. 

“What?” Amelia asked. 

“I cannot marry Melody.” John repeated, not meeting Melody’s tear-filled eyes. “I am sorry, my Lady - but I cannot and I will not marry your daughter.”

Melody felt like the wind was knocked out of her. She couldn’t believe what was happening - what John was saying - and neither, it seemed, could her mother.

“ _ You will not? _ ” Amelia repeated his words. 

Her eyes bulged dangerously in her anger and she stood toe to toe with the Duke. Though Amelia was taller than most women, John still towered over her. Despite this fact, the sheer anger in her expression made him step back a few paces. 

“You have been courting Melody. You have made your intentions clear. You have given her  _ hope _ ,” Amelia snarled, more furious than Melody had ever seen her. “You have even gone so far as to  _ defile _ her - in plain view and without a chaperone, no less - and now you refuse to marry her? The sheer audacity of you. Have you no shame at all?”

Melody, who couldn’t bear the thought of listening to another word of what was happening, shook her head and touched Amelia’s shoulder.

“Mother, please,” Melody begged meekly. 

She felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her and she was sprawled, face first, on the ground. She felt like an utter fool - she was completely embarrassed to have fallen so deeply for a man who couldn’t even bring himself to look at her anymore. And, worse than that, she was mortified for ever thinking that he could possibly feel the same way about her. 

“Please, let’s go. Before someone sees.” Melody continued. 

Amelia turned, alarmed by how weak Melody sounded. Inspecting her daughter closely, Amelia realised just how pale and unwell she looked. Grasping Melody’s hand tightly in hers, she turned back to the Duke.

“Don’t you dare run off to your country house after tonight,” she threatened. “You will come to call tomorrow and you will tell my husband what you’ve done. You will then tell him that you absolutely refuse to marry Melody, explain why, and suffer the consequence.”

Amelia turned her back on John and marched away, leading Melody back into the party. She felt dazed and nauseous; her mind replayed John’s unemotional tone of voice as he refused to marry her.

_ I cannot and will not marry your daughter. _

Why had he kissed her then? Why did he look at her like she was something precious he couldn’t afford? Had she imagined it all? Had she been so desperate for him to feel the same way that her mind had simply tricked her into seeing what she wanted so badly to see?

She was empty - she could not cry in front of all these people. Not in front of Lady Clarissa, who stood with a knowing smirk against the corridor as they entered the party once again; not in front of the Dowager Countess, who looked curiously on as her mother dragged her through the crowd; not in front of Earl Bearington and that stupid smile he always gave her - and most importantly, not in front of John bloody Smith, the Duke of Gallifrey. 

No, she never wanted to see him again if she could help it. 

*

The journey home was a blur. She didn’t speak a word to her father, who looked as confused as he was worried. He kept asking why they were leaving so early but Melody couldn’t find it in her to say the words out loud, and Amelia merely shook her head and gave him a pointed stare. 

She knew her mother would probably tell her father as soon as they got home, but Melody just couldn’t think of it now. She wanted to go to bed and bury herself under the pillows - she wanted to cry herself to sleep. 

She wanted to curse the day she met John Smith, Duke of Gallifrey. 

She felt a proper fool. She couldn’t believe what love had turned her into - she never should have doubted herself. Life would be much better as a spinster, without the presence of a man weighing her down and reminding her of what an utter imbecile she was. 

In the comfort of her familiar bed, she finally let herself cry. She cried herself dry, ensuring there were no tears left to be spilled. She was cursing her own stupidity - what did she have that John could ever want? She was the very opposite of an appropriate wife - she was sharp-tongued, opinionated, independent and was utterly without care for what others thought of her. How could she ever have thought that John could possibly have fallen in love with  _ her _ ?

She thought of the kiss they shared. She had been certain that the longing between them was mutual - but she was wrong. How could she have trusted herself? What did she know about love? She, who spent the last seven years of her life rejecting every single man who had ever shown a modicum of interest in her?

Of course, she had to fall for the one man who wasn’t interested at all. Fate was cruel like that. 

Wiping her tears away, she thought of what the ton would say when the news started to spread. Dowager Countess would be most displeased- but she was the least of Melody’s worries. Lady Clarissa Oswald would be so unbearably smug, confident that her daughter would rightfully be matched with the most eligible bachelor once John was out of the picture. 

She groaned at the thought, thinking of the stupid, knowing smirk Lady Oswald wore as Melody left. What had that smirk been about? She was standing there, next to the corridor that Melody and Amelia had just gone through, her drink in hand and a devious smirk on her face. Melody gasped aloud. 

_ She knew _ .

Somehow or otherwise, Lady Oswald knew that Melody was unchaperoned and John had kissed her. There was no other reason for her to look so damn satisfied when nothing had even happened yet. 

There was no doubt that Lady Oswald would use whatever means necessary to have Melody out of the way. She didn’t care that Melody would no longer be a participant in the social seasons from next year - she was vindictive and cunning, and she loathed Melody with her entire soul. Of that, Melody was absolutely sure. 

Heart participating anxiously, she knew what she had to do. It couldn’t wait until morning - no, that would give Lady Oswald ample opportunity to tell the society papers what she knew. Melody had to act quickly. 

She was going to beg John Smith to marry her or die trying. 

She loved her parents too much to put them through a terrible disgrace. It had been her own doing that led to the mess and she was going to do everything she could to fix it. She didn’t want to bring shame upon the people she loved most in the world. Her mother and father had spent all their lives putting Melody first - it was only right that she put them first now. 

Her mind was made up. She got out of bed and changed quickly. She would take a horse to Countess Smith’s palace and demand to see John - she would break the door down with herself necessary. She would find John and tell him that her family’s honour was on the line - if he was truly his dad’s son, he would never stand idly by while his friends suffered if he could do something about it.

Riding clothes on, she tip-toed out her room, past her parents’ chambers and down the stairs. She stole the keys from her father’s shoes and let herself out, breathing in the fresh air gratefully as she turned and locked the door behind her. 

“Melody?” came a quiet voice in disbelief.

She turned around so fast she felt quite dizzy. 

“John?” she said, the same disbelief lacing her voice. “What are you doing here?” 

“What are you doing here?” he shot back.

“This is my house,” she said coolly, remembering that she was supposed to be angry at him. “What do you want, John?”

His expression deflated slightly, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to answer her. Melody grew impatient with waiting. 

“Lady Oswald knows.” she told him. He frowned. “She knows… about what happened at the party.”

He stopped trying to find words and simply stared at her in shock. 

“John,” she sighed, trying to find a way to put her request into words. She’d been counting on the horse ride there to mull over her statement but evidently fate had decided to snub her this time, too. Eventually, she said, “We’re friends, aren’t we? And you know - I’ve told you how much my parents mean to me. If Lady Oswald tells anyone, we’re basically ruined.”

John remained silent, and Melody became even more desperate.

“John, please,” she pleaded, tears starting to shine in her eyes. If she ever thought she would be in a position where she would have to  _ beg _ a man to marry her, she would’ve taken the first chance to run away to the nearest brothel. “Please. My parents won’t survive a scandal this big. It will ruin them.”

“What am I to do?” he asked gruffly.

She looked into his eyes. 

“Marry me,” she said softly. 

“Melody,” he replied roughly, running his hand down his face. He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I can’t. I just - I can’t, Melody. Please don’t ask me why.”

“Not even to save my family from ruin?” she asked, her breath taken from her. “John,  _ please _ . I will never ask anything else of you.”

“Melody,” he whispered, his voice rough. 

She stared at him for a few moments. She was sure that he would stand his ground and refuse - she was sure that she would have to resort to crying and swearing vulgarities at him - but he sighed in resignation. 

“I will ask your father for your hand in the morning,” he said softly. He didn’t look particularly happy about it, but she supposed it was the opposite of what he wanted. He didn’t look at her - his eyes swerved and avoided hers. She felt far too broken to hurt any more at his evasiveness. “Goodnight, Melody.”

She watched as he left, shutting the gate as softly as possible. His head lifted and he looked directly at her. There was regret etched all over his face.

“I’m sorry, Melody.” he said, in that same soft, apologetic tone.

She knew what he was really saying:  _ I’m sorry for not loving you the way you want me to.  _ She felt more tears sting her eyes, clogging her throat. 

“I’m sorry too.” she whispered back.

He nodded and left. She waited until she couldn’t see him anymore before she sank down in front of the door and cried into her knees. 

*

It was with a wooden smile that John was shown into the sitting room after breakfast. Melody could tell instantly that the Duke had not slept since they last spoke. His eyes were tired and he looked grumpier than ever.

Melody couldn’t blame him. She had difficulty sleeping last night, too - after forcing herself off the ground and dragging herself to bed, she found that a fresh wave of tears was ready for her. Her night was spent hugging a pillow to her chest, feeling completely and utterly alone for the very first time in her life. 

Rory’s expression had turned to one of rigidness as soon as he set eyes on John. Melody had known from breakfast that her mother had told him everything last night. It was so like her father to try his hardest to make her feel better while having no idea how. 

Melody knew that her father was far too kind to outrightly show his dislike and distrust of John. But his expressionless face seemed to give John the same message as the dirtiest look of contempt would.

John looked sincerely apologetic as he greeted the family. Amelia looked at him with great distaste, her lips set into a thin, bitter line. Melody could not find it in herself to look at John for more than a second before looking back down at her lap, her fingers fidgeting restlessly at her sides. 

“Viscount Williams,” John greeted in his deep, gruff voice. “I hope I haven’t called too early on you.”

“Certainly not.” Rory replied, and though he gestured for John to sit opposite him, it wasn’t quite with the same warmth that many had come to associate Rory Williams with. 

“I have come to make a generous request of you, my Lord,” John spoke quietly. Melody stared resolutely at her lap, her fingers plucking at the light blue material of her dress. “I would like to ask your permission to marry your daughter, Melody.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What?” Amelia asked in surprise. 

“Marry Melody?” Rory repeated, in the same tone of surprise as his wife. 

“I understand that after last night, I am probably the last man you would ever permit to marry your daughter,” John continued, staring intently at Rory. His tone was grave and sombre - somehow Melody felt like he had come to relay a tale of devastating tragedy rather than propose marriage to her. “But I am prepared to swear by everything I hold dear and sacred that I will try my best to do right by Melody. She will be safe and content as my wife, this I promise.”

Rory looked seriously at John, remaining silent for a few moments.

“Melody is my only daughter - my only  _ child _ , Your Grace,” Rory said severely. “It is not a question of her safety or contentment that concerns me most. Why do you think that Melody hasn’t yet been married in seven years despite countless respectable suitors?” 

John hesitated, not knowing if Rory was expecting an answer or asking a rhetorical question. As the older man raised an eyebrow expectantly at him, John thought quickly and muttered the first answer that came to mind. 

“Because she doesn’t want to,” John shrugged. 

Rory shook his head. 

“Because Melody knows that none of those men could ever make her happy.” Rory said simply. “That is what concerns me, Your Grace. More than anything, my wife and I want Melody to be  _ happy _ . For the last two weeks, I’ve observed Melody with you. She has been perfectly happy. But before I grant you permission to wed, can you say with confidence that you will make Melody happy?”

“Father,” Melody interrupted quietly before John could answer. She was shaking her head at Rory, her eyes shining with tears that were illuminated by the sunlight through the windows, and she wore the same pleading expression from the night before, when she begged her mother to leave before someone saw them in the corridor. “Father, please. Don’t be absurd and make him promise something so -”

“I promise.” John said quietly, interrupting Melody.

Quite forgetting that she was supposed to be avoiding looking at him, Melody turned and stared at him in shock. But John’s eyes were fixed on Rory’s. He did not spare her even the barest of glances. 

“I promise that Melody will be safe, content,” he paused, but neither his gaze nor his eyes wavered. He seemed like he wanted to impress upon Rory that he was taking this vow quite seriously, “ _ and _ happy as my wife.” He turned to Amelia this time, and spoke in the same quiet tone. “I will do my best to make sure that she does not have a single complaint to make.”

A few minutes of silence followed these words. Rory and Amelia looked at each other, evidently communicating silently. Melody was still staring open-mouthed at John. How could he have made such a promise to her parents when he knew perfectly well that it couldn’t be kept?

Whatever he was thinking, it was obvious that he did not want to share his thoughts with Melody. His stare remained fixed upon her parents, and Melody could not help the feeling that he was avoiding her gaze purposefully. 

Melody wanted so badly to weep. She couldn’t believe this was what her life had come to - she never imagined that she would be one of those women who would be wed to a man who could barely  _ look _ at her. He resented her - he had every right to, having basically forced him to propose to her, but she  _ hated _ knowing that fact. 

If she was merely a friend to him, she could have found a way to deal with that - she wouldn’t feel so completely hopeless and helpless, and perhaps she would even be looking forward to spending her life with a good friend. But this outright contempt - this refusal to meet his eyes - broke something within her she hadn’t known existed until she met John. 

“Melody?” Amelia said quietly, frowning as she inspected her daughter’s face. “Would you like to lie down? You look pale, dear.”

Melody shook her head, swallowing roughly before closing her eyes and taking deep breaths to calm the storm in her heart threatening to drown her.

“You  _ do _ want to marry John, don’t you?” Amelia asked suddenly. “If you don’t want to marry him, Melody, you  _ must _ say it.”

But Melody forced herself to shake her head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mother,” she managed to sound incredulous even as the irony of the question overwhelmed her. John was the one man she could see herself willingly marrying - but John couldn’t say the same for her. “I am perfectly all right.”

Her mother nodded dubiously, eyeing her with the same maternal care that she showed the night before.

“We will see the modiste for your gown after tea, alright?” Amelia told her.

“My gown?” Melody asked, only half-listening. John still was refusing to look at her.

“Your wedding gown, dear,” Amelia said, attempting to hide the small smile of excitement on her face. “John wants to marry you as soon as possible. Your wedding will most probably be in three days.”

Melody snapped back to attention, turning to face her mother with wide, panicked eyes. “Three days?” she asked. “But I -”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Amelia said soothingly, rubbing a hand up and down Melody’s arm in a reassuring manner. “Your father and I will take care of everything. You needn’t worry about anything at all.”

“Could - could I ask a favour?” Melody said hesitantly. Amelia cocked her head to the side questioningly. “The reception can be as grand and elaborate as you like, Mother, but - I’d like the ceremony to be private.”

“Private?” Amelia repeated in surprise. “Why?”

“Because…” Melody trailed off, her mind racing in search for something to tell her mother. She couldn’t possibly say that having to pretend that she and John were utterly in love as they were wed in front of the entire ton was quite impossible for her - for them both, actually. “Because I want to keep it in the family. You, dad and Lady Smith - you’re all the witnesses I need for the wedding. You’re all that matters, Mother.”

“But what about Donna?” Amelia asked, frowning. 

Closing her eyes at the reminder of having to lie to yet another person she loved, Melody let out a slow breath.

“Please, Mother?” she asked again. “The reception can be whatever you want. Just - please, I just want a private ceremony.” 

“Alright, it’s your wedding after all,” Amelia conceded finally. Melody gave her a relieved smile. “Don’t forget that we’re going to the modiste after tea.”

Melody nodded. “Yes. My wedding gown,” she said, feeling even less enthusiastic at the prospect of shopping for her wedding than the actual event itself. “How could I forget?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed the chapter! i would love it if you could tell me what you thought of it 🥺🥺


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